


Next Time You’re in Town, Call Me

by Kleineganz



Series: Next Time... [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time Bottoming, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex on a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 08:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21194708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kleineganz/pseuds/Kleineganz
Summary: Dean gets drunk and starts a brawl at a bar. Before it gets out of hand, the local sheriff arrives and breaks it up, taking Dean into custody. The bar owner decides not to press charges, just asking the sheriff to haul Dean’s drunk ass back to his motel. On the ride back to the motel, Sheriff Novak takes advantage of the drunk and handcuffed Dean.





	Next Time You’re in Town, Call Me

Dean felt the rush of adrenaline, when his fist connected with the large man’s jaw, sending him spiraling backwards. “No one calls me a pansy-ass sissy!” Dean slurred. He’d had one too many, and he knew it, but he could still hold his own in a fight.

Several of the guy’s friends stood up and surrounded Dean. All of them easily as tall as Sam, and far more muscular. “Son-of-a-Bitch!” Dean growled, bracing himself as they all began to pile on him at once.

Some minutes later, as Dean was trying to knock back another one of the behemoths, he vaguely was aware of the sound of a police siren and the distinct red-and-blue flashes coming through the windows of the bar.

“Alright, alright, break it up!” came a deep, gravelly voice. The man who had grabbed Dean by the front of his shirt and was about to punch him, paused and let go. After they all backed off, Dean saw the town’s sheriff standing there, hands on his hips. As he removed his hat and set it aside, he revealed a head of messy dark hair and the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen.

Striding towards him, he grabbed Dean by the upper arm and turned him around, bent him over the pool table, and yanked his arms painfully behind him. “Hey Sal, do you want to press charges?”

“Nah. He’s just some punk rollin’ through town and nothing got broken. Just get him out of here,” the bartender said.

“Alright, you heard the man,” the sheriff rumbled from behind Dean, yanking him upright by his now cuffed hands. “Let’s go.”

Once outside, Dean took a deep breath of the crisp night air to try to clear his head. “Hey, thanks man. You got there in the nick of time. I was about to be pounded into pulp.”

“Where are you staying?” the sheriff asked as he dragged Dean towards his waiting patrol car.

Dean turned his head and stumbled slightly as he searched for the officer’s name badge. _C. Novak._

“At the LaFonda Motel off Highway 54,” Dean said. “Hey, c’mon. Uncuff me. My car is right over there. I’ll sleep off the booze in the back seat and be gone by morning. I promise, Sheriff Novak.”

The sheriff snorted in derision. “No dice, pretty boy. You can walk back tomorrow and pick your car up. It’s only a mile and a half.”

The sheriff opened the back door to his car and shoved Dean inside, his hands still cuffed behind him. Groaning, Dean tried to right himself and failed. Giving up, he just laid down across the backseat as the sheriff started the car and drove.

In his drunken state, Dean kept drifting in and out of consciousness, losing track of time. However, it felt like they’d been driving for far too long to get him back to the motel. Dean was about to ask when he felt the car slow to a stop. After the car was turned off, Dean was plunged into pitch darkness. That wasn’t right. The motel parking lot had lights. It shouldn’t be pitch dark outside. _Did the power go out?_

The back door of the patrol car opened. “Get out of the vehicle,” ordered the sheriff, his voice sounding even more gravelly than before.

“Huh, wha? Where are we? Why’sit so dark?” Dean mumbled. The sheriff reached in and yanked him out of the car and dragged him around to the front, bending him over the warm hood.

From the dim moonlight, Dean could tell that it wasn’t a power outage. They were out in the middle of nowhere, parked on the side of some barely paved road, with no lights from the small town visible as far as his eyes could see.

“Stay put, pretty boy,” the sheriff ordered.

Still confused, Dean tried to struggle back up when he was shoved back down. “I said, stay put!”

The next thing Dean knew, the sheriff was reaching around his waist and undoing his belt and the front of his jeans, yanking them and his boxers unceremoniously down to his ankles. The cool night air on his ass contrasted with the warmth radiating from the hood of the car.

“What the hell?” Dean protested, when he received a painful spank on his ass.

“You will watch your language, pretty boy,” the sheriff growled at him. “or I’ll haul your ass in for profanity.”

The next thing Dean knew, was one hand pressing down firmly on the small of his back, and the other working its way between his ass cheeks. Dean realized to his horror that the sheriff’s fingers were slick with lubrication. That’s when the reality of the situation hit him.

“Please, no,” Dean pleaded, trying to push the sheriff away from him, but unable to kick back because his feet were restrained in the jeans around his ankles and his hands were still cuffed.

“You come prancing into town with that pretty ass of yours,” the sheriff said matter-of-factly, even as he breached Dean’s hole with two slick fingers. “and you expect no one to notice? This would have happened eventually, you’re just lucky I called dibs the moment you rolled into town.”

That’s when Dean realized he’d been set up. The taunting at the bar, the fight, all of it had been orchestrated so the sheriff could get him alone like this.

“You ever take a cock up your ass boy?” the sheriff asked as he began to pump his fingers in and out. “What am I saying, a boy as pretty as you? ‘Course you have.”

Dean shook his head, denying it. Hot tears crested and fell from his eyes as the sheriff added a third finger. “Fuck you’re tight. You’re gonna feel real good around my cock, pretty boy.”

Squirming, Dean shook his head and kept pleading. “Please … no. Please. I’m not gay, I swear! Let me go, man. I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“It’s far too late for that now,” the sheriff said as he pumped his fingers in and out of Dean harder. “Next time you’ll think twice before moseying into our quiet little town with that pretty ass of yours.”

The fingers were pulled roughly out of Dean and he began to tremble as he heard the sheriff undo his belt and lower the zipper on his slacks. The hot, hard flesh of an aroused cock slapped against Dean’s ass a couple of times before Dean could hear the sheriff slicking himself up.

Gripping Dean’s hips firmly, the sheriff wasted no time sliding his cock into Dean’s slicked hole. The burning stretch around the man’s cock knocked the breath out of Dean’s lungs as he whimpered in pain. “That’s it, pretty boy, you’re taking my cock real good. Fuck, your ass feels even better than I thought it would.”

The sheriff had hilted himself entirely inside of Dean and then paused, running his hands over Dean’s hips and up his back, waiting. Slowly the burning pain began to fade, and Dean subconsciously relaxed against the hood of the car, his ass feeling so _full_. “That’s it, pretty boy. Just relax and take your fucking. This’ll be over before you know it.”

Then the sheriff pulled out slowly before snapping his hips back against Dean, driving his cock deep. Every time the sheriff fucked into him; Dean couldn’t help the pathetic whine that came from the back of his throat.

It was when the sheriff changed the angle of his thrusts that Dean was in for a surprise. Suddenly, he was filled with intense pleasure, the likes he’d never experienced before. His whimpers turned to moans of ecstasy, even as his own cock began to harden. In the back of his mind, Dean was shocked. _What the hell? This shouldn’t feel good, should it?_

Noticing the change, the sheriff reached around and groped Dean’s hardened cock. “I knew you were queer, from the moment I saw that pretty face of yours,” the sheriff said, ramming his cock in hard and deep, grinding against Dean’s prostate. “You’re getting off on being fucked. Look how hard you are for me.”

Pausing for a moment, the sheriff’s hand let go of Dean’s cock, only to come back slick and wet. He began to stroke Dean in time to his own cock plunging in and out of Dean, fucking up and in, hard.

“You’re going to come for me, pretty boy. Come while my cock is shoved deep in your ass,” the sheriff bent over and growled into Dean’s ear. “Then I’m going to fill you up, empty my balls deep inside that pretty ass, before making you clean up the mess with that cock sucking mouth of yours.”

Dean whined at the picture that made in his head. His arousal started to spiral out of control, the sheriff’s words and deft strokes from his hand quickly bringing about his end. When he came, Dean’s cock exploded all over the front of the patrol car, pumping out Dean’s spend as the sheriff began to fuck him harder.

Grasping Dean’s hips in a bruising grip, the sheriff pounded into Dean over and over. “That’s it, pretty boy. Just take it … take it …” Then the sheriff practically howled as he came, ramming his cock so deep as he pumped Dean full. Dean felt every pulse and twitch as his ass was filled.

Slowly, the sheriff slid his softening cock out of Dean and pulled him upright, pulling his jeans back up and fastening them, before forcing Dean onto his knees in the dirt. Grasping Dean’s hair, the sheriff guided a still very dazed Dean’s head toward the mess he’d made on the front of the patrol car. “Lick it up. Clean up your mess, pretty boy.”

Not willing or able to fight anymore, Dean complied. He wrinkled his nose at the taste of his own spend, mixed with grit and the metallic taste of the car, as he licked every drop.

“Good boy. Now clean me up, and I’ll take you back to your hotel,” the sheriff instructed, waving his now flaccid cock in front of Dean’s face. Opening his mouth, Dean took the soft cock between his lips and began to lick it clean, making the sheriff groan. “Fuck, your lips look so good wrapped around my cock. I should have had you blow me first.”

Once he was satisfactorily cleaned, the sheriff slipped his cock out of Dean’s mouth and tucked himself away. Then he helped Dean up and back into the car. As they drove back to town, Dean propped his head against the window, staring out into the inky blackness, while his ass throbbed, a reminder of what had just happened. Then he began to feel the sheriff’s spend slowly trickle out of his hole, and he was glad it was too dark out to see his blush of embarrassment.

Dean remained handcuffed until the sheriff pulled into the motel parking lot and hauled Dean out of the car. “I expect you to be on the road by noon tomorrow,” Sheriff Novak said before pulling out a business card and tucking it into Dean’s shirt pocket.

Still dazed, Dean stared as the sheriff drove off. Pulling out the card from his pocket, Dean studied it for a long moment.

_Castiel Novak, Sheriff. _

His first instinct was to tear it up and toss it. When he turned the card over, he hesitated. In neat block letters was written:  
  
_Next time you’re in town, call me._

Dean’s cock twitched, and he tucked the card back into his pocket as he stumbled toward his motel room.

**Author's Note:**

> This story came to me after coming across a news story today, and I couldn't get the idea of Castiel being a sheriff and taking advantage of a drunk Dean. I hope you enjoyed this smutty one-shot!
> 
> If you enjoy my fan fics, check out my novels on Amazon. I write under the pen name Grayson Bell.


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